


A Matter of Letters and Dreams

by LifeOfABridesmaid



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: I can't think of tags, Letters, Love Letters, M/M, and dumb, cowritten by a fellow queer, gundham and ibuki are siblings, monomi is a matchmaker, sonia is also a matchmaker, soudam - Freeform, they're both hopeless, warning: i spell soda like souda
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:22:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22743202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LifeOfABridesmaid/pseuds/LifeOfABridesmaid
Summary: When Kazuichi and Gundham get the chance of a lifetime to attend Hope's Peak Academy, but it's not everything they dreamed of. However, during the game, they find a new dream. One that only the other can fulfill.(Or, with some particular matchmaking, they both end up writing letters to each other that they never send. Romantic chaos ensues.)
Relationships: Soda Kazuichi/Tanaka Gundham
Comments: 5
Kudos: 91





	1. An Old, Mahogany Box

**Author's Note:**

> So uh I started a thing,,, and I never do notes so Idk what I'm doing right now, I'm just vibin  
> word count: 1642

The soft light of the setting sun laid in patterned rays on the face of one Gundham Tanaka as he carefully opened an old, mahogany puzzle box, shifting one panel aside to reveal an intricately engraved key, and twisting it in a small, hidden lock. From the open box he pulled a small stationery, and began to write on one of the pages in a small notebook.

_ Dear Kazuichi- _

He paused, stopping to slowly erase the name and rewrite it.

_ Dear Souda- _

No, not that, either. What was wrong with him, that prevented him from even writing a simple name? He glanced over to the large tank on one side of his cottage, where his Four Dark Devas of Destruction lived when he wasn’t carrying them around, as if seeking out an answer in them. He sighed, picking up his pencil once again and scrawling a new word in place of the twice-erased name.

_ Dear Dumbass, _

This time, it felt more right. More final. He couldn’t quite explain why.

_ Dear Dumbass, _

_ I don’t quite understand you. You might never see this letter and I may never ask you this question within my immortal life, but I was told by the one you call “Miss Sonia” that journaling would help me figure out my “feelings.” And, if I’m honest, I have no idea what she meant by that. I don’t have the feelings that mortals do. Who would, when you can speak to gods? I don’t even know why Princess Nevermind advised that I write to you, specifically. Haven’t I made it painfully clear that I want nothing to do with you? You look like the grandmother from the common fable of the woman and the wolf; oh what sharp and unruly teeth you have, oh how stupid you dress. What honest man wears a neon green jumpsuit with bright pink hair? And on the occasion that one would, what sort of trauma made you roll up your sleeves unevenly? The bright colors may be excusable, but the absolutely uncultured way you “personalize” your dress is absolutely abhorrent. Not to mention that the hat you wear is going to give you terrible hat hair the second you remove it. Anyone with any sense of fashion always keeps hair gel on hand for this sort of thing. Really, every time you try to talk to me I wish I could rip your clothing away from your spine and throw it into the tide, just so that I won’t have to see you wearing something so hideous ever again. _

_ On the off chance that you might one day see this, dumbass, know that I will personally throw myself into the grip of a monobeast, _

_ Gundham Tanaka. _

With a soft click, the puzzle box closed, and Gundham closed his eyes. He would never see that letter again, at least of his own volition, he was sure. He definitely didn’t want to look at it again.

-  
  
Kazuichi didn’t know when or why he decided to write a letter to the one person he hated the most, but here he was sitting at his desk with a pad of loose leaf paper and his favorite neon pink gel pen in hand. God.. Did he really want to do this? He could still back ou-   
  
_Dear Gothdham,_ _  
__  
_ Oh god it’s actually happening. It’s too late to go back, the ink is already setting in his sheet. Why did he have to write a nickname? That’s so stupid! Ugh.. Here we go.   
  
_Dear Gothdham,_ _  
_ _Don’t ask me why I’m writing this, I don’t know why either. I wish I could say somebody was forcing my hand but It’s just me. Goth boy, I think we both know that I don’t like you at all, so don’t get any ideas if you ever find this letter. (God I hope you never find this letter I’d rather be executed than face you after that) Anyways, since I’ll likely never show you this letter I have to ask some things. Who the fuck let you leave the house like that? You really said ice cream cone rights huh? How much gel do you have? Gallons? Jesus dude, why do you choose to do that everyday? Speaking of your appearance and houses, before we ended up on the island did you ever leave the house? You’re paper white bro. LIterally stark, sheet white. It’s a wonder how you ever get good photos of yourself for the yearbook. Another thing I don’t get about you is how you pretend not to care about anything but then turn around and make the biggest deals out of the smallest things. Your earring? You literally crawled under a beach house to retrieve it. Your hamsters? Don’t act like we don’t hear or see your gentle voice speaking to them with a softer face than you look at any of us with, including Miss Sonia. You’re a walking stereotype. Y’know, Bad boy with a heart of gold? That’s you despite your constant denial. You’re no better than the rest of us, no matter how many times you deny it with your ‘I’m not like the rest of you, I can speak to the gods’ act. I really hope you never find this letter but if you do please don’t make fun of me too hard._ _  
__  
__\- Kaz_ _  
__  
_ Souda dropped his pen and leaned back into his chair. This letter had to be hidden before anybody else ever set eyes on it. Thankfully though, there was an empty shoebox he took stole from the airport that was the perfect size to store this paper and all that would maybe come after so that nobody could read them. The letter was stashed away in the box and then the box was kicked under his bed. Now there was a place to lock away his thoughts. 

-

Gundham really could’ve sworn he had told himself that he wouldn’t ever look at that stupid little note ever again, but the next day, after meeting at the restaurant, he found the puzzle box clicking underneath his fingers again, remembering a rhythm only once felt before. And once again, he found himself, pencil in hand, writing Kazuichi’s name— or, at least, a ridiculous nickname to make up for the fact that his brain wasn’t really accustomed to referring to him as “Kazuichi” or “Souda” in such a familiar manner.

_ Sharkboy, _

_ Whenever I look at you, you look like some small creature, puffing out its chest to appear confident and powerful, despite being the opposite. And I have this feeling in my heart, that isn’t who you really are. We’re trapped on an island, forced into a cruel game in which we must kill our own classmates-- people we have met before but have forgotten everything we know about them-- and I must admit, even I have lost my composure and started to feel less like myself every day. Like some persona that I use as a shield to protect myself from the inevitable. However, your behavior, and the “mask” you’ve chosen, have been confusing me greatly. Why do you choose to be so loud, and dare I say stupid? You chase after things that you will never have, and I cannot fathom why. Though, perhaps somewhere within me, I really do understand it. I suppose I do the exact same things, but I’m just too proud to admit it. Maybe the only reason I ignore you and convince myself that I have power is because I really don’t, and I feel unbearably helpless. _

_ For that stupid jumpsuit I threw to the tide last night when you were showering, _

_Gundham Tanaka._ _  
__  
_ \-   
It was less than a week later that Kazuichi brought back out the box and his favorite gel pen to write another letter. This time there was a real reason that justified his letter writing. It was only the second letter and writing them had almost seemed comforting. Strange, he knows.   
  
_Dear Hamster man,_ _  
_ _Yes, I’m back again. Happy to see me? No? Didn’t expect you to. I’m going to pretend we’re friends right now okay? Great. Now listen. So Gundham, if I die here please don’t forget me. I know how likely my chance of death is on this island and I know how many people would want me gone. So… Please don't forget me when it happens. I know its stupid to somebody like you but I’m afraid to die and become obsolete. Okay so now is the part where I tell you about my day right? Since I’m pretending we’re friends? My day way fine, except you dropping my fucking jumpsuit into the ocean and getting me in trouble with Monomi. Thank GOD she got it out before Monokuma noticed. I could have died you dick. ….Okay yeah, maybe it was a little funny but don’t think for a second I won’t tie your scarf to a high tree branch the first chance I get. I was so lucky you didn’t see my underwear in that pile so I wouldn’t be completely bare. Could you imagine? I’d never be able to face Miss Sonia ever again!! You did your hair a little different today and it almost made me think you read my letters (which struck so much fear into my body that you actually asked if I was okay). Your hair looks better down in my opinion but who cares what I think. You still look like a total loser. Until next time,_ _  
__\- Kaz_ __  
  
The pen and this letter were shoved back into the purple box as soon as it was done with. Souda didn’t even bother reading it over out of sheer embarrassment of writing to his rival as if they were the bestest friends in the pre-k class. The shoebox was kicked back under his bed into its hiding place.


	2. Bright Pink Glitter Pens and a 2B Pencil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gundham continues to insult Souda's fashion choices, while Souda himself is getting quite a bit of intervention (because let's be real, he won't make the first move on his own even if it cost him his life).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for supporting this story so far! I'm really excited about it. And by the way, this story has a cowriter! I haven't been able to put that in because he doesn't have his profile set up so that I can tag him as a cowriter, but check him out! He's super cool! https://archiveofourown.org/users/Upsure/pseuds/Upsure

Today, Gundham chose not to write to Kazuichi. He didn’t feel like he could put any words on the small letter-paper in his stationery. Instead, he picked up his pencil and a small notebook in the morning before he left to meet up at the restaurant, and drew whatever came to mind. As he sat in the small restaurant, he sketched faces as everyone talked amongst themselves, discussing their next move. From across the room, he saw a sharp-toothed grin aimed at the Nevermind Princess, and the room temperature suddenly increased by ten degrees. Was that the temperature? He shook his head slightly, a motion only meant for himself. 

Remembering why he brought his notebook, he pressed the pencil to the page, sketching out the shape of a sharp jawline, and slightly curled hair, tucked under a dark beanie. He was drawing Kazuichi.  _ Why was he drawing Kazuichi?  _ Maybe this would make up for his inability to write one of those letters he said he’d write every day. Still he continued, drawing the slightly curved line of his mouth, and adding more to suggest lips-  _ don’t think about his lips, Gundham or I swear to god-  _ drawing out a nose, and as he stared at the boy longer than he needed to, all he could think of was how adorable it looked. And the eyes- oh god his eyes. He had to close his own for a moment and take a deep breath…

“Gundham, are you feeling alright?” Sonia had approached him without his knowledge, and with a shudder, he snapped his notebook closed. If she saw that… he wasn’t quite sure what he would do. “You’re looking rather--”

“I’m feeling fine, Princess Nevermind,” he snapped back, almost sounding angry.

Was it really anger, though? The feeling gripping tightly onto his heart more greatly resembled fear; the fight-or-flight response, the adrenaline pumping through his veins, and the churning in his gut. He clenched his jaw tightly, feeling in his scarf for the comforting presence of one of his best friends, relaxing only when he felt fur. 

He needed to remember to find pink and green highlighters to color this in when he returned to his cottage.

-  
_Dear Icecream hair,_ _  
_ _  
__I think I like you better when I’m writing to you. You’re quiet and don’t interrupt me to quote Shakespeare from a play nobody has ever even heard of. Why do you insist on torturing me Tanaka? I’ve done nothing to wrong you and earlier today you were just glaring at me with that notebook you were scribbling in. Is that your hit list? Are you planning on killing me after your ‘Devas’ chew up my shoelaces and create a nest out of my hat? If so say goodbye to your hair gel jerk. Try impressing Miss Sonia without your cool hair and see how well that works out for you. If you’re actually planning to kill me, I won’t hesitate to haunt you for the rest of your life. You will NEVER have any free time alone again. Anyways, something cool happened today! Miss Sonia laughed at one of my jokes! And it wasn’t even a fake laugh! Can you believe that? I certainly can’t. Nothing bad has happened in a while-- At least not since the whole Teruteru thing, so I think maybe we might be able to get away without all the murder and blood. I just can’t imagine any one of us killing anybody on such a nice island with such cool people. I mean sometimes I’ll joke about it but I could never actually do it y’know? I can’t stand the sight of blood. Well, a little blood is fine and fake blood isn’t real so its okay, but what we’ve already seen is too much for me already. I think you’re afraid too_. _Wanna know why I think that? You might not have noticed but you used to let your devas roam freely, but now they’re constantly hidden under your scarf. Yeah, sorry I shouldn’t have said that but since you’ll never read these letters I can say whatever I want. Letter three is done for now, have a good day Victor Van Dort wannabe._ _  
_- _Kaz_

_   
_ _ - _

_ Dear Idiot, _

_ Recently I’ve been pondering the etiquette of these letters, and I’ve realized something. I may use degrading nicknames-- at least, I try-- but every time, I address you as dear. Am I overthinking? Maybe, but I simply cannot stop thinking of it. And every time I sign off, I leave you with a short message meant to elicit some sort of reaction, despite knowing you will never read them. Perhaps I was never taught the right letter-writing etiquette, which may be why I write so strangely. _

_ I have also come to the realization of how little I know about people-- you, specifically. What makes you do the things you do? What makes your brain work the way it does? Is it fear? Guilt? Pride? All I can know is of myself, that my fear causes me to hide my true self and passions from the world, especially on an island where death occurs almost daily, and murder is encouraged. I know you have a secret, Kazuichi, and despite not knowing what it is, I hope to the gods that it doesn’t get you killed, or even worse-- make you blackened. _

_ For that stupid (-ly cute) smile, _

_ Gundham Tanaka. _

_-_ _  
_ _  
_ Souda wrote his fourth letter in the beach house by the diner this time, just for the scenery and wind to provide ideas as he wrote. The fourth letter kind of had a different vibe than the rest. All his interactions with Gundham since the very first letter had been.. Nicer than before. Not just nice like they were being nicer to each other. Nicer as in sitting in the same room as Gundham wasn’t annoying anymore. Kazuichi found a nice corner of the beach house to sit and write in except… he didn’t know what to write. All things suddenly fled from mind when it came to Gundham, and at this point Souda was starting to get annoyed that now Gundham was replacing all his thoughts (yes, even those of Miss Sonia!) at every point in time except when he wanted.   
  
‘ _Think, Think, Think, What can I write about that would make sense? … I’m gonna write about all the dumb things I notice that he does.’_ _  
_ _  
__Dear Mister Brightside,_ _  
__How is your day going? Mine is… decent to say the least. I didn’t know what to write so this entire letter is just going to be me writing about all the stupid things you do that annoy me. The first thing I always notice about you when you enter the room is that you always look exactly the same. Everything is always perfectly in place, even the eyeliner you wear always matches. Sometimes I wonder whether its really eyeliner or just your real skin. That's why I noticed when you did your hair slightly different-- Not that I stare at you enough to notice, you’re just by Miss Sonia all the time. Believe it or not but just because I stare at you a lot now doesn’t mean I’m looking at your cool earring or the way your eyes brighten when you talk about what you’re passionate about._ _  
_ _Another thing I noticed is that you listen really well when you’re not claiming to be the literal antichrist. Why DO you do that? I don’t get why you keep the big and bad act up despite being the opposite. Well, maybe I do get it. I’m always pretending to be better than I really am but it never really works. I just want to be liked y’know? I mean everybody wants to be liked but for me it feels like I HAVE to be or else I’m not important. On the topic of annoying things you do, you’re now all I think about. Before you I’ve never questioned myself this way, but to be fair I was never allowed. My mother died when I was little and my dad was an abusive, homophobic alcoholic. I could never come out to him but as long as you don’t tell anybody… I think I’m bisexual. My feelings for Sonia were never as strong as they are now for you and I don’t even really talk to you. Am I being weird? I’m probably being weird I’m sorry you’re just really cool and-_ _  
_ _  
_ The notebook was snatched out of his hands so suddenly that for about twelve seconds he didn’t move. However when he did finally move it was already too late.   
  
“He really got you good huh?” Fuyuhiko tossed back the pad of paper into Souda’s lap.   
  
“H-Hey! This is really private! You shouldn’t hav-”   
  
While Souda was picking his pad up into his arms, Fuyuhiko took this time to crouch in right in front of him. “You like him right?” Souda slowly nodded. “Then let's get you a thick goth boyfriend, get up we’re going to Ibuki.” And with that Kazuichi was forcefully pulled to his feet and dragged to the music venue to find Gundham’s sister.   
  
Ibuki Mioda was never hard to find with that loud personality of hers, which Kazuichi cursed internally at the moment. He wanted to hide and back out but Fuyuhiko wouldn’t let him with the death grip he had on his jumpsuit. Still, he tried anyways.   
  
“Hey Kuzuryu! We don’t actually need to do this! What if I was lying? Please don’t do this she will tell Gundham and I’ll be ruined forev-”   
  
Fuyuhiko ignored him and called out to Ibuki, “Yo! Mioda! We have something to ask about Gundham, its very important! We need you like NOW!” To Souda, the voice sounded louder than Ibuki’s music, and it must have been considering Ibuki jumped down to come and meet them. Fuyuhiko used Souda’s hand to wave back at Ibuki before she reached them. Probably just to mock him for being a coward.   
  
Ibuki halted to a stop right in front of Fuyuhiko, “Hello! What do you need to know about Gundham? Ibuki can probably help!”   
  
Fuyuhiko let go of Souda’s jumpsuit to snatch the pad of paper from him and hand it to Ibuki, “Read this and tell us whether Gundham Tanaka is straight or not. Do you think you can help me get this dumbass a thick goth boyfriend? He keeps writing these lovesick type letters and honestly I think you’re the only one who can help us.”   
  
Ibuki started to bounce back and forth on her heels, “OOO! Kazuichi is in love with Ibuki’s little brother! Well, I think I can tell you he is extremely not straight! Oh! And he writes letters just like these! Ibuki has only read some of them, but they’re very similar to the ones you write for him!”  
  
Kazuichi’s heart caught in his throat, “You mean.. You mean he writes letters just like me? What are they about? Can I see them? Does this mean he likes me back??”  
  
“Calm down sharkboy! Yes yes Gundham writes letters just like you! I can’t tell you what they’re about or if it means he likes you back,” Ibuki laughed at Souda’s attitude towards finding out about Gundham’s letters, “but!!!! Ibuki can maybe let you read them! ...If you trade your letters to Ibuki. That's the price to view, can you pay up?”

  
Before Souda had time to overthink or even come up with an answer Fuyuhiko spoke for him, “I’m sure we can probably do that. We’ll come back in a few days to rack up more letters, and to let Kaz over here make up his own mind.”   
  
Kazuichi looked back and forth between Ibuki and Fuyuhiko and nodded enthusiastically, a big sharp grin on his face. “I’ll be back in about a week or less! Thank you for this Ibuki, and I guess I have to thank Fuyuhiko too for making me do this. Let me know of any updates!” He snatched back his pad and ran back to his cottage to finish his fourth, interrupted letter.  
  
- _I really like you Gundham._ _I can’t tell you what happened just now while writing this letter, but I can tell you that if you end up reading this letter that I hope you want to hang out sometime soon, and that you don’t hate me. Maybe I’ll start giving you less dumb nicknames, or maybe I’ll finally tag it with your real name._ _  
_ _  
_ _Love, Souda_ __  



	3. A Fuzzy Journal Inscribed "Gundham Tanaka"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gundham Tanaka cannot sleep and Ibuki Mioda can't read minds (she just has very good intuition). Familiar?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly at this point this fic is my baby. It has so many chapters pre written that I just don't even need to write it anymore, I can just post maybe every other day. It's taking all of my self control to not post the entire thing in one go.

It was less than a week later when Gundham Tanaka was rudely awoken by a sharp rapping on his door, and with a groan, he realized that there was really only one person it could be. Snatching a robe from the foot of his bed and hastily tying it, he heaved himself out of bed, checked the peephole for possible blackened-to-be’s (which, in reality, could be anyone, so there was really no point in checking), and opened the door, because Ibuki Mioda was waiting and he knew as well as anyone that you didn’t just make her of all people wait. While he may have been grumpy, groggy, and just generally not a morning person, Ibuki was like coffee-- both a morning, noontime, and night person. Always energetic… and always annoying. In an endearing way, he supposed, that only came when said person was your twin.

“What do you  _ want? _ ” he asked, because whenever Ibuki seeked him out it was always because she wanted something. Of course,  _ wanting something  _ could be wanting to have some good company on a stroll around the beach, so it wasn’t like she was going to ask him to sell his soul (again), but it definitely had him on edge because he really just wanted to hole himself up in his cottage all day. Screw human interaction, he could be writing letters to Souda, or drawing Souda, or writing the stupid boy’s name in his notebook a million more times.

God, that sounded creepy.

“Hey hey hey! What’s up with you, grumpy-gus?” She exclaimed, peering closer at his sleep-deprived face. “Is that eyeliner, or dark circles? Ibuki can’t tell.”

Gundham raised his head to the ceiling and groaned an incomprehensible prayer to whatever would listen. “I asked a question, and I’d like an answer. Unlike you, Ibuki, I can’t read minds.”

“I can’t read minds either, Gundham I just have--”

“Very good, intuition, I know. Still, please, what do you want?” Gundham looked like he needed a coffee or seven. He really did. Not only was he tired of being awake for the five minutes he had spent without sleep already, but he was also tired of Ibuki’s shit.

“Well,” Ibuki said, dragging out the word in a way that made it sound much too sweet, like stretched taffy. Gundham didn’t need anymore evidence to prove that his sister was up to something, but he got some anyway. “I know we’re on this island and we’re, like, supposed to kill each other,  _ but _ — and hear me out here— I wrote a couple of new songs and I  _ really  _ want to hear what you think!”

“I’m happy that you want to spend time with me, Ibuki, but I’m not going to the music venue in a robe. If you give me the time of day to take a shower and actually make myself look decent, I’ll think about it. I’ll  _ think  _ about it,” Gundham bartered. He loved his sister (in the way that siblings often did), but it seemed that she stole his will to live in the womb. Shooing her away, he shut his door again, breathing a heavy sigh of relief when she finally left.

Over the past week, he had been consistently writing letters every day, but, looking through them again, it was becoming clearer and clearer that his mental health wasn’t doing the best it could be. He had fallen so deep for the stupid mechanic that he had become more and more willing to throw his life away like a piece of trash, especially knowing that it meant Kazuichi would have at least a few more days to live. This killing game was really getting to him, and his mental problems really weren’t helping. It had gotten so bad that at this point he was legitimately considering suicide, because his mind simply couldn’t understand a world in which anything went his way. And it wasn’t like he had the mental capacity to kill anyone, either. But he would, without hesitation, to protect what happiness he had on this stupid island.

Outside, Ibuki turned to Fuyuhiko and Kazuichi, who had been quietly waiting by the door the whole time, just out of view of the peephole. “He’s like, getting ready to head out, and he’ll probably be a while, but you two gotta get outta the way before that happens,” she whispered in a way that made it clear she was trying very, very hard not to be as loud as she was used to being. “You guys remember the plan?”

Fuyuhiko nodded, still gripping the back of Kazuichi’s jumpsuit as if he were a fresh catch. “You lure Gundham away and keep the door unlocked, and we head in, do what we need to, and you’ll have him back in an hour, right?” He asked, making sure he was right.

“And if you need Ibuki to keep her little brother away for longer, keep the lights on. I’ll know you’re in there as long as they’re on,” Ibuki added.

“Got it,” Kazuichi said uncertainly, though there wasn’t really anything he could do about his nerves at this point. This was what he got for making friends with matchmakers. 

“Alright you two, scatter. You’ll know when Gundham and Ibuki leave.” She waved her hands at the two of them, motioning very clearly that it was time for them to hide. Fuyuhiko pulled Kazuichi over to a place farther down the dock, knowing that it wouldn’t seem suspicious to see them hanging out together. Although it might be surprising to some that Kazuichi actually had friends.

“Kazuichi, you don’t have to be so nervous about this,” Fuyuhiko said, feigning some lighthearted conversation. Even if they were far out of earshot, Gundham could probably still see their body language, and it wouldn’t be good if he got curious. “If Gundham hurts you, know that I will personally murder him for your sake.”

“That doesn’t help at all!” Souda exclaimed in horror. If there was anything he really didn’t want, it was Gundham dead. He really shouldn’t even be thinking about that right now.

Soon, Gundham emerged from his cottage, and he and Ibuki made their way off to the music venue, Kazuichi assumed. Where else would she take him? Watching carefully, he could see that the plan had gone off without a hitch. Ibuki made sure to leave the door unlocked, and her quick pace led Gundham away quickly. Fuyuhiko lightly pulled on the back of his jumpsuit, signalling to him that it was time for phase two of their plan. Kazuichi swatted his hand away.

“Could you not do that? I feel like fresh fish when you try to carry me like that,” he complained. 

“Are you going to chicken out?”

“Okay fair.”

-

  
Souda held his shoebox to his chest, knowing that he’d have to leave them, face the embarrassment that was knowing Gundham had them in his possession, and could react to them in ways he didn’t know of. Still, He ventured on and toward Gundham’s cottage while Fuyuhiko made it seem like they were just talking and being causal. Everything was going just as planned except..   
  
“Are you sure we should really do this? Is it too late to back out? What if they come back too early and we’re still in there and get caught-” Souda’s nervous rambling was cut off with a hand over his mouth. He took this as a sign to just breathe and chill out for a moment.   
  
Fuyuhiko, hand still over Kazuichi’s mouth, used his other hand to open Gundham’s door, “Yeah, its too late for you now. I just opened the door and you’re going inside, c’mon.” With his right hand covering Souda’s mouth, Fuyuhiko led his friend into the little cottage with his left hand on his back. The door was softly kicked shut.   
  
Once inside Souda was let go. 

The first thing Kazuichi noticed about the room was how starkly different it was from his own. While he had blueprints and a multitude of tiny metal parts scattered around (like a true workshop), Gundham’s room was covered in the dark colors he wore. Tanks meant for small animals were in every corner of the room, most of which were empty. In one corner, though, a large table seemed to stand out, housing the largest tank in the room. Souda wasn’t surprised to find four hamsters nesting in the bedding.

The second thing Kazuichi noticed was the scent. It was the feeling of entering someone else’s home where the scent hit him like a brick wall; he had gotten so used to the smell of his small workshop room that anything else just smelled… wrong. In Gundham’s room, however, the scent was actually rather pleasant. Not anything he was used to, but the sage was definitely a nice touch. It smelled of incense smoke of lavender and vanilla, as far as he could tell. After taking it in for a moment or two, he could conclude to himself that he could definitely get used to this. It smelled nice, not that he expected anything else.

Of course, what would the room of a high school student be if not an absolute mess? The third thing Kazuichi noticed was the state of absolute havoc that the room was in. Gundham probably took to much time caring for his Devas to truly look after his room, but Souda could probably consider himself the same. However, he didn’t have any animals to take care of, so he wasn’t really sure what that said about him.

“Okay, so our goal here is to politely take something of Gundham’s so he starts socializing with people,” stated Fuyuhiko, keeping Souda on track.

“Yes, that, right,” the mechanic replied with little thought, to focused on the room itself.

“I think you told me you wanted to steal his hair gel?”

“Oh! Yeah, that.” And Kazuichi had snapped back into reality. They say a person’s living space said the most about their personality, which meant that Gundham… was in complete disarray, but still had time to care about his hamsters. He didn’t quite know how to feel about that other than that it was uniquely Gundham. “I did want to do that, didn’t I? Now, where does he keep it?”

His first thought was the bathroom, so that was where he looked first. Fuyuhiko’s job of getting him here and holding him to his promises was pretty much done, so the yakuza heir amusedly watched from the bed. Souda hated the look on the bastard’s face when he finally realized that the hair gel was not, in fact, in the bathroom, for some ungodly reason.

“Where do you think he’d keep hair gel?” He asked Fuyuhiko, knowing very well that he himself was a shit detective and had no idea how to figure this out.

“I dunno, maybe where he keeps important shit?” Fuyuhiko guessed, shrugging. Kazuichi hummed, taking the idea and shifting his gaze toward the Devas’ habitat.

The table had drawers, so it was really more of a desk. However, the intricate drapery on the tabletop made them hard to see, so it took him a fair amount of looking to even realize they were there. Still, when he found them, he searched every drawer, taking care to leave everything exactly the way he found it. Part of him felt bad; after all, this was supposed to be a quick, in-and-out mission. They were only supposed to find some hair gel. But when Kazuichi pulled open the last of the four drawers, he found something rather peculiar, and it wasn’t hair gel. It was an intricate, mahogany puzzle box. That really made him think.

Still, as he continued the search, puzzle box in hand (because it seemed important, and while he felt bad for snooping, he just  _ had  _ to know what was in the box), he found himself fiddling with the hardly-moving parts, not really sparing the little think a glance as his bored fingers almost automatically found a way to occupy themselves. It was a constant game of  _ no that won’t move, what about this?  _ But Kazuichi found himself not really caring, since now that part of his brain was focusing on the puzzle box, the other parts could actually focus on the hair gel issue. He did, eventually, find the hair gel (it was actually in the bathroom, but somehow he just missed it), but not before a clicking sound resonated in the small room and something fell from the box.

As Kazuichi investigated it, he realized that he had opened a small compartment where an engraved metal key was hidden. Knowing this, he could also conclude that this was the key to opening the box, and his curiosity piqued once more. Just what the hell what in that box? After a little more fiddling, the key found its keyhole, the lock twisted, and the top clicked open. What he saw inside, however, was quite surprising. He broke into boisterous laughter.

“Hey, cut it out, we’re going to get caught!” Fuyuhiko exclaimed quietly.

Kazuichi had every reason to laugh, though. Inside of the box was a notebook and a pen, like the ones he might find at Claire’s (you know, the ones with the fuzzy cover, and the pom-pom on top of the pen). It was absolutely ridiculous! The best part, though, was that when he pushed all the fuzz out of the way, he saw Gundham’s name embroidered onto the cover. That would mean… he had this custom made? Now he wasn’t laughing so much as smiling sweetly at it, because all he could think of was how adorable it was for Gundham, who’s whole aesthetic was dark and mysterious, to have a sort side-- and a soft notebook. The fuzz was really a nice touch. He hadn’t even opened the notebook yet and he was blushing.

“You know,” Fuyuhiko said, feeling a little bit like he shouldn’t be here, “I should probably leave… you five alone for a while.”

“What? No, man, you’re my moral support! You can’t just leave me here!” Souda exclaimed in protest.

“You’re staring at a fuzzy notebook like you’re waiting for it to propose,” he stated, and Kazuichi flushed bright red.

“Hey!”

“Make sure to give me the deets later!” Fuyuhiko pseudo-shouted as he dramatically walked out the door.

“Waitwaitwaitwait-- ugh.” Kazuichi began to protest, but realized that he couldn’t really stop the yakuza heir anyway, so he was alone to his feelings. Well, not quite alone. The Devas were here, too. One was watching him as he snooped, and while part of him still felt bad, most of him was very curious. What in the world would Gundham even keep in here?

So, he opened the notebook.

_ Ah, shit. _


	4. If I Could Find You Now, Things Would Get Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reliving some bad memories and realizing that yes, Gundham truly aspires to become the pagan aesthetic.

Gundham didn’t like remembering his childhood. That was why, most of the time, he shoved those memories to the very back of his mind, swept under a rug where the would be trampled at any attempt to recover them. That was how he liked it, because no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t remember a time in his life when he was happy. So how come he was sitting in his cottage, now, brushing away the dust covering these old memories, and subjecting him to the root of all his insecurities? He couldn’t figure out a singular reason. He should be writing this down in some sort of letter, but he wasn’t. Just the reminder of his past drained him of all energy and motivation, leaving him an immovable boulder in his bed. The light of the moon— it was full, he noticed. Ironic.— bled through the gaps in his curtains, leaving what looked like a massive rip in his skin, like torn paper. 

When he went to therapy, his therapist had told him to think of his life in chronological order. So far, it’d done just as it was designed to do: keep his thoughts in order. Under control. But now that he was slowly beginning to lose that control…

At five years old, he was happy (he had eyebrows, then). His hair was shorter, then. The same color it was now. His natural hair. He had two parents, a twin sister, and lots of friends. At least, enough friends to be sufficient. They liked him plenty, despite his weird hair. He loved both of his parents, even though they argued most of the time. He didn’t like to press the issues they had with each other. This was probably where his habit of ignoring his problems came from in the first place. This mentality of “it’ll go away if I just don’t think about it.” 

At six years old, his dad packed his bags and left. No divorce papers, no note, no words, nothing to let anyone prepare. He was just… gone without a trace. In divorce court, which came a few months later, he took his twin sister away from him. His mother was a terrible cook, but he ate her food anyway because they both had fragile mental states and he knew how upset she would get if he didn’t. In fact, the only thing she was good at cooking was vegetables (the reason why now, he was a vegetarian, among other reasons). A couple months later his mom scrounged up the money to send them both to therapy.

Gundham was diagnosed with both anxiety and severe depression at six years old.

After that point, everything went downhill. His anxiety caused him to pluck out his eyebrows, and eventually they never grew back. Him and his mom were very poor, so he mowed lawns and babysat for extra money. His therapist gave him a prescription for an emotional support animal. He chose a hamster. It’s name was Charles, and he brought it everywhere with him. It soothed his anxiety and quelled his dark thoughts more than anything else had, so he raised the money on his own to make pet ownership his hobby. At eight years old, he had gone about three years without another human’s touch. He had grown to despise the feeling out of spite. 

He was losing friends at school. He assumed they all thought of him as the weird shut in kid with a hamster in his bag, which was exactly what he was. They avoided him like the plague (did he have rabies? Maybe he had rabies), which only made his depression worse.

At first, his breeding hobby was just a way to make some extra money. His mom only had a low paying, part-time job, and was just too stressed to take on another one, but it wasn’t enough to pay the bills, so Gundham was the one who had to make ends meet. So, at nine years old, he started to breed his animals as a business, using some of the money to buy new and different animals to breed. It became his life. It gave him a different perspective over the years, and a new respect for animals. At this point, his respect for animals greatly overbalanced his respect for human beings, including himself. The only reason he wasn’t dead yet was because he knew his mother couldn’t take care of his hamsters.

One other way he battled his depression was with his personal style. He felt in control when he dressed like the antichrist, when he talked about the occult. When he became pagan, though his mother was Christian, she knew of his hardships and accepted it. They were all they had left, and letting go of each other would leave them both unbearably alone. Still, he desperately tried to fit in, joining the small theatre program at his school and dressing like he worshipped MCR in 2005. None of it worked, he found, as he graduated from middle school and was chosen as the Ultimate Breeder, a title he knew he didn’t deserve. He was far from the best at what he did, but he knew he was one of the few middle schoolers who bred animals for fun. In that sense, he understood.

And then, when he entered high school, everything seemed… blank. Why were the faces of his classmates so familiar? Well, he already knew why, but it just seemed like one big lie. He knew his memories had been wiped— Monokuma told them that much, and that was all the information he had so assuming it was true was the smartest thing to do— but just what  _ happened  _ during those high school years? He just couldn’t brush aside the sense of familiarity he felt when he saw their faces. Were they friends? Did this class of misfits actually  _ accept  _ him?

That just wasn’t possible. Monokuma was lying, clearly, and he was stupid to ever think otherwise. Had he taken his meds? Shit, did he even  _ have  _ meds on this stupid island? He couldn’t remember, but he also lacked the motivation to move. He was metaphorically bound to his bead, his body feeling like a lead weight. He turned his head to the window, seeing dusk fast approaching and the stars blinking awake in the absence of light. Of course, it wasn’t like he could actually sleep, so he eventually lifted himself from his bed (his anxiety telling him  _ “move, move, move”  _ and his depression telling him  _ “stay, stay, stay” _ ) and creaked open his door, drinking in the scent of the cool night air. The sky was surprisingly clear tonight, and all of the stars were clearly visible with so little light pollution. Nighttime was already upon the island, so any light sources had promptly been shut off by Monokuma.

The Milky Way was clearly visible and, as he sat upon his doorstep stargazing, he knew it was among the most beautiful things he had ever seen (the first, of course, being Kazuichi). It looked as if one of his gods had taken a meat cleaver to the black sky and cut a sliver into the sky’s skin, making it bleed glitter. The stars twinkled and blinked at him, as if they were sentient, like they were trying to tell him something that he was too human to understand. 

But maybe it wasn’t a matter of how human he was— at least not in the way he had originally thought. He had long hated humans, first for the way they treated him, and then for the way they treated his friends (animals, and the earth). But were all humans bad? Was being human such a disadvantage? Part of human psychology, he knew, was that people often ignored that which they didn’t want to hear. Perhaps, then, the shimmering night sky  _ was  _ speaking to him. He just did not want to hear the truths it spoke.

If he ever got out of here, he’d need to mull this over further with his therapist. In the meantime, he missed the smell of sage.

-  
“Hey, you… What are you doing out here alone?”  
  
A voice Gundham had grown accustomed to and fond of cut through the silence and sent him into a startled, hands up type pose. Huh I guess even overlords of Ice are afraid sometimes too. Souda took this moment to sit down right next to Gundham in the sand. It was strange seeing Gundham at the beach during the night, he hated the beach and couldn’t swim. But hey, at least he wasn’t alone.  


“Don’t you know its dangerous to go alone at night? You could get hurt out here, Hamster-Man. Speaking of hamsters, where are they? Your uh…. Devas?”   
  
Gundham gave a snorting laugh at this, “Hah! You think I, Gundham Tanaka: Ruler of Ice and Snow, could be taken down so easily? You’re a fool sharp toothed one,” He turned his neck to better see his given company, “are you.. Worried about me? Is that why you came? It couldn’t have been just to check on my devas, correct? They are resting in my cottage anyways.”   
  
Souda went silent for a moment before bursting out into laughter, “What? What made you think that? You’re not the only one who can’t sleep and needs to go outside sometimes, some of us have ADHD, Y’know.” This was only partly the truth, as the whole reason would never be revealed.   
  
“You don’t… have to stay, you know. I have already been aware of my repulsive aura. Do not pretend to want to stay if you truly wish to leave, you cannot fool me,” Gundham’s voice sounded almost shaky when he spoke although he tried hard to hide it, '' I will make sure not to die without you.”   
  
“Hmmm… Your vibes do seem very repulsive right now… This must mean.. ” Souda pretended to ponder, “yep! This definitely means I have to stay with you just in case somebody comes to vibe check your ass while I’m gone.” His grin showed off his surprisingly white, pointed teeth and despite his loud mouth and personality, Gundham felt safer knowing he was there.   
  
“You never did give me an answer though,” Souda said, leaning back into the sand with his hands behind his head, “what is The Gundham Tanaka doing out so late? Was it really sleeping problems or? You aren’t gonna make me beg for caring about your well being right?”   
  
The word caring caught Gundham’s attention, ‘I thought you said you were not worried about me, and that you just had ADHD. You’d never lie to me, would you my fiendish friend? … If you must know I was plagued with hellish visions of the past, and I could not return to my slumber undisturbed.”  
  
_Plagued by hellish visions? Oh wait.._ “You mean you had nightmares? Or were you just overthinking? I do that sometimes… Well most times actually. I overthink way too much for my own good. Are you okay though, Tanaka? This whole situation is overwhelming even for evil Ice lords right?”   
  
Souda was right. This entire scenario was slowly killing Gundham. The killing game, the murders and trials, even just simply trying to make friends was worsening Gundham’s mental health because he barely had any time to process any of it. He didn’t know how to make or keep friends but he was expected to kill his classmates that he couldn’t even remember? Bullshit. So many things were going on and it was so overwhelming and he couldn’t-- No, can’t handle this.   
  
Before he realized what was happening Gundham had felt Souda’s thumb swipe a tear off of his cheeks-. (when had he started crying?), and pull Gundham into a one armed hug. “What are you— What are you doing?! Don’t you know my skin is… my skin is..” Gundham broke down into silent cries, leaning into Souda as he was unable to do much else. It made almost made Gundham feel better knowing Kazuichi was not making any attempts to talk to him, only silently running his hands through his hair. He had left his hair down after his shower so it must look strange to the mechanic, but… he had no time to care for such a small matter. 

  
Something Gundham noticed while leaning on Kazuichi was that he didn’t smell of motor oil or grease. Kazuichi smelled of cherry blossoms and fresh melon, strange for a man of his profession. Another thing Gundham noticed was how warm the other was, even when he had stopped crying— by force of will rather than the tears halting their flow— Kazuichi had stayed warm and by his side. All of a sudden Gundham sat up and moved an inch away from Souda, “I’m.. I’m sorry I don’t know what made me think it was alright for me to start… crying. I do not wish for you to see me like this, especially when you have other worries to worry about. I sincerely apologize, I should go.”   
  
“Its alright dude, don’t worry about it. We’re all having a hell of a horrible time here, you’re allowed to cry sometimes. You don’t have to be sorry about anything, I’m here with you , alright?” Souda’s voice held an odd calmness, it was the type of calmness that you only get when a person is just really good at hiding what they felt, “oh hey, your uh.. Your eyeliner is running.. Lemme just--,” He wiped Gundham’s tears away yet again with the sleeve of his left arm, leaving black eyeliner to stain, “got it! Other than a few smudges, I think you can get back to your place unnoticed.”   
  
Gundham stood from his place in the sand and brushed the grains off of his skinny jeans, turning to glance at Kazuichi one more time before leaving. The pinkette gave him a sharp toothed grin and told him that he’d be walking around for a few hours if Gundham needed him. And although Kazuichi was smiling and being seemingly happy, the overlord couldn’t help but feel the aura of sadness and loneliness radiating from the mechanic as he walked away, maybe next time he’d ask about it. If there was a next time.. 


End file.
